I will take time to be alone today. I will take time to be quiet. In this silence I will listen… and I will hear my answers. – Ruth Fishel

Last Memorial Day weekend, while the rest of the country was enjoying the roar of the Indy 500, screaming crowds at the NBA playoffs, or just noisy families, I was sitting in complete silence – by myself. Three nights and nearly four full days, with much of that time sitting on the bench you see in the photo above.

Regular readers know I work hard at cultivating a process of personal reflection, and I’ll take a couple days a few times a year to get away. This past weekend, on fairly short notice, a “room” opened up at the New Camaldoli Hermitage, a Benedictine monastery only about 50 miles north of me on the dramatic Big Sur coastline of California. It wasn’t my first time at a monastery, but it was the longest stay – and the first one where total silence was required of the dozen “retreatants” that stay with the fourteen monks.

Total really means nearly total. If you want to speak with a fellow retreatant, you head down the two mile driveway to the Pacific Coast Highway. After just a few hours I removed the battery from the clock in my room as the faint tick-tock was unbearable. The only human-created sound is the church bell that rings before prayer services four or five times a day beginning at 5:15am, and you can attend to hear the monks chanting the Psalms. I did several times as the spiritual energy puts some aspects of life into perspective. You can also request spiritual guidance from a monk, which would be verbal while in a private room. I did, as I’ll describe below.

I put “room” in quotes because the accommodations are decidedly minimalist. A tiny room, single [very hard] bed, desk, and a half bath. You share a shower. The monks provide one cooked meal each day at noon which you take back to your room to eat, and you can use the well-stocked kitchen to snack at other times. It’s your responsibility to make your bed, clean your room, do your dishes, and take your towels and bedding to the laundry at the end of your stay. There is no TV, phone, cell service, or internet, so you are completely cut off. Your room isn’t locked. Not my usual travel expectations, but perfect for this experience where I wanted to simply reflect on what I really need and want in life.

The monks from the Order of St. Benedict are a great bunch, and I’ve always admired their particular tradition of contemplative spirituality. They find a lot in common with eastern meditative traditions like Buddhism, and in fact, the Hermitage bookstore is filled with books on other faiths, particularly Buddhism. There were even books that I considered too new-agey for even my granola-munching legal-cannabis-toking Californian mindset. I was still a little surprised to find a Dhammapada in my room, in addition to the Bible.

One of my favorite authors, in addition to Trappist monk Thomas Merton, is Benedictine monk David Steindl-Rast, who coincidentally spent some time at the Hermitage. Steindl-Rast has studied and written extensively on the commonalities between aspects of Christianity and Buddhism, and even has a fantastic TED Talk on the power of gratitude. Pretty spry guy for being over 90, eh? If you just have a couple more minutes, skip the rest of this post and go watch his talk. I devoured several books by Steindl-Rast, Merton, and Thich Nhat Hanh on this trip.

I’ve long felt that a regular habit of intentional reflection is a very powerful component of effective leadership – both professional and personal. Back in my corporate days I’d take my executive staff offsite for a quarterly retreat where we’d spend the morning reflecting on how we were doing vis-a-vis our principles and strategies, then in the afternoon we’d spend time together interacting on a more personal level, which is when some of our most brilliant ideas arose. Having it at a winery a mile away, with the free-flowing amenities you can imagine, helped everyone feel comfortable participating.

Before I go on a retreat I set some goals and create a rough schedule. This time I wanted time to reflect on various aspects of my life – personal, professional, health, friends, family, and so forth. I also wanted time to do quite a bit of reading, and I especially wanted time to just sit. It’s in those times of sitting, in solitude and silence, when I often have the greatest insight. Jon Miller has written severalarticles on tips for doing hansei – reflection – which I also reviewed.

Over those four days I took nearly thirty pages of notes in my journal. I had several insights on how issues I thought were a big deal were in reality far less significant, and on aspects of my life that I thought were unimportant really should be more important. I reviewed old goals and created new ones, decided on activities to start, and perhaps most importantly, what I should stop doing. One of my favorite books, Greg McKeown’s Essentialism, was part of my reading at my reflection in Panama a couple years ago, and the concepts have stuck.

I did meet with a monk for “spiritual guidance,” but in my case the guidance was directly related to my reflection. He was intrigued with my reflection process (because, done right, it really is a defined process), and offered a great suggestion to take time to intentionally reflect again on the thirty pages of notes from my reflection. I took his advice, and after a few hours I had a new distilled and condensed set of notes that added even more clarity and direction. That second level of hansei is something I’ll incorporate into my regular reflection from now on.

As is usually the case, my wife immediately noticed the difference when I returned home. She knows how important this process is to me and encourages me to take a few days alone every so often. Or maybe she just enjoys having the house to herself for a bit.

Do you have a process of personal reflection? If so, is it really a defined and intentional process? I believe it is a critical component of effective personal and professional leadership. Consider my process and Jon’s tips I linked to above, but it’s important to make it your own. Then take some time and reflect. You’ll be amazed at what you learn and the clarity it creates. If you’re up for it, try doing it in silence, perhaps at your nearest monastery! But you’ll find it really hard to beat the view at the Hermitage!

Walking has become a much larger part of my life over the past few years. It started when I embraced kinhin – walking meditation. Walking slowly on the beach for an hour or so, one step per breath, barefoot and silent to engage all of the senses. The mind is calmed, allowing reality and ideas to flow in. Since then I’ve added regular walking, averaging over 15,000 steps a day, and actively trying to increase that average each week.

Over forty years ago, growing up in Peru, my parents would take us on grand walking tours of Lima and other cities every weekend. Hours on end, probably a hundred miles or so a day – at least it seemed like that to a young kid. I hated it at the time, but looking back I’m very thankful for the experience. Living overseas widens perspectives and creates understanding and acceptance.

I lost that walking fever when I returned to the U.S. to go to college. Perhaps it was the notorious icy blizzards of upstate New York, but somehow a walk down to the dorm kegerator seemed sufficient. Anything else required begging a ride from someone lucky enough to own a car. After college I’d use a car to drive a block to the store. Pathetic. And I didn’t realize what I was missing. I did know I wasn’t missing the pounds that slowly crept onto someone who used to be on the high school swim team.

A few years ago, and especially over the last two years, I started to work hard to get into better shape. Crossfit, running on the beach, even running a marathon. It’s worked and I feel great (thanks, Paul Akers!). But I realized that even though I looked for opportunities to exercise, I was still driving just a few blocks to the gym, post office, bank, and so forth. Our little beach town isn’t large – just 10,000 people. Is driving really necessary?

So one day I walked to the gym, then the next day to the post office, then the next day to lunch. Within a week I was hooked. Soon I was taking a few hours on Saturday morning to walk to the end of our 6 mile beach, and back. Now when I travel I have to find time for walking. While at the AME conference in Boston a few weeks ago I was able to convince a few colleagues to walk the several miles to dinner. Great sights, great conversation, great exercise.

You see, I discovered it’s not just about exercise, although it’s amazing what just a few thousand steps a day will do to your body.

Walking calms your mind. Even if you don’t formally practice kinhin, walking slowly, preferably without supplemental audio, lets your thoughts slow and settle. After even a short walk you feel more balanced, upbeat, and creative.

Walking lets you (and teaches you?) observe at the speed of reality. I’ve been surprised at what I’ve found in our small town, even though I’ve lived here for seventeen years. Just the other day I noticed a plaque buried in what used to be a garden across the street from city hall. Looking closer, I discovered it was in memory to a Hope Miller, and later I looked her up and learned an interesting story about our town. I’m sad that the garden planted in her memory two decades ago has become unruly. Maybe I’ll change that.

Walking lets you meet and get to know new people. On my long walks I’ve met several neighbors, merchants, and tourists from around the world. Some of these connections have turned into new friendships. While walking to dinner at the AME conference I was able to get to learn more about a couple team members that I rarely see in person since we’re in different offices.

In the lean world we know the power of going to the gemba to observe the reality of the value creating process, to help team members see through your eyes, and to challenge processes. Walking, even around your neighborhood, can be similar – and more.

Solitude gives birth to the original in us, to beauty, unfamiliar and perilous….
– Thomas Mann

We have become used to a world that floods our senses and keeps us entertained 24/7. Think back to a time before radio and TV, perhaps even before books. Besides working to increase the population, what did people do? They thought, and pondered, and created new ideas. They learned about others and themselves. In the modern world, we’ve lost some of that ability, and we need to make a conscious effort to get it back.

When we’re alone, with just ourselves and when not overtly meditating, our thoughts gel and reassemble into priorities and actionable concepts. What used to be a jumble begins to make sense. Conflicting priorities give way to clear direction. Seemingly insurmountable obstacles are put in their proper perspective. Most of us have experienced this, either alone or perhaps when our team is at an offsite meeting (in solitude as a team).

As I described in the introduction, the power of solitude was my first experience with Zen. In the midst of personal and profes- sional chaos, I flew myself to Hawaii on a few hours notice, and just sat on a beach. I breathed
in the fragrant air, listened to the birds and waves, and had a glass of wine by myself. My thoughts slowed, my priorities realigned, and I reconnected with myself.

Lately, I’ve found I can obtain the same benefit by driving with the radio off, taking a walk on the nearby beach, or even just sitting on the porch in the morning. Alone, just my thoughts and me.

Embrace solitude as an intentional part of your leadership routine. Take your daily commute with the radio turned off, or go for a weekly walk on an empty beach. Find a place to be alone, even if it is just a few times a year while on vacation (many executives plan a couple days alone at the end of business trips). The more frequently you make solitude part of your leadership habits, the more settled and aligned your thoughts will be. In addition to having it be part of your personal routine, consider ways to make solitude a part of your team’s dynamics, such as via offsite meetings.

It’s that time of the year when we reflect on the past and plan for the future. An arbitrary time, which has always bothered me. We should really be doing this in a continual fashion. I try, with daily, monthly, and quarterly reflection, but I’ll admit that the end of the year is still a special time.

As is customary for us, my wife and I head off to a remote beach house for a couple weeks, which also lets us reconnect a bit. By the way, I’ve found that two solid weeks is really what’s required to appropriately decompress, relax, and reflect at the end of a year. Anything less and your mind is distracted by the logistics of travel, meal planning, and so forth. I need two weeks in a chair with a view, preferably with no people around. Ok, except my wife.

Overall it’s been a good year. I’ve gotten into the best shape I’ve been in in the past thirty years, we bought a house that we’re doing an extensive remodel on to turn into a “lean home,” I finally finished and published The Simple Leader, and I’ve been able to reinforce a more robust daily reflection practice.

I’ve also been successful at significantly reducing my travel, and for the first time in decades I will have no (zero!) status on any airline going into next year! Scary, but strangely liberating. The perks of United 1K and American Executive Platinum are simply not worth the intangible costs. Hello row 35!

Perhaps the goal I’m most satisfied with is reading – a lot more. Decades ago I used to devour books every couple days, but as the pressures of life and business took hold, the habit slipped. I still read a lot of blogs, online newspapers, the WSJ each morning, and so forth, but books are different. The length of books creates context and complexity, which leads to contemplation and personal growth. I believe it’s important to avoid becoming superficial in thought.

Last January I told you how my annual “do something different” goal for this year was to read a work of literature from a different culture each month. I’m happy to say I’ve been successful and it’s been a very rewarding experience. Here’s how it turned out:

The Kite Runner was easily my favorite, followed by Ivan Denisovich. Ceremony started out rather slow, but became an intriguing look at Native American society as well as the experiences of returning war veterans. Life and Death and Wind-Up Bird were interesting immersions into Chinese and Japanese life, although keeping track of the multiple reincarnations in Life and Death (some not as humans!) became a bit difficult.

While staring at the ocean the past couple weeks I’ve also cranked through several more books, but from a wider variety of genres.

As usual, Tim is a bit over the top in many areas, but there were also some really interesting nuggets of wisdom. The Language of God, The Book of Joy, and The Way of Silence are phenomenal books and highly recommended, regardless of your spiritual persuasion.

Several concepts from those books were great reflection points, such as the eight pillars of joy as described by the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu: perspective, humility, humor, acceptance, forgiveness, gratitude, compassion, and generosity.

Based on that I’ve come up with a plan for the upcoming year, continuing to reinforce daily practice. And I’ve also determined my new “do something different” goal. But this time I’m keeping it private, at least for now. A hint: it could involve extreme endurance. And I spent a lot of time on my “stop doing” list.

Best wishes for a happy, healthy, and productive new year. Take the time to slow down and reflect. What will you improve next year?

Be thankful for what you have; you’ll end up having more.
If you concentrate on what you don’t have, you will never, ever have enough.
– Oprah Winfrey

Oftentimes we become so focused on fixing problems and resolving issues that our entire sense of reality shifts. We begin to live in a bubble that encompasses the negative and blocks the positive. Because they demand our attention, the negative aspects of work and life consume a disproportionate amount of our thinking, and eventually distorts our perceived reality.

You can re-center your perspective by grounding yourself in thanks for what is good with you or your team. What are you thankful for? Think about your health, your relationships, your business success. There will be more to be thankful for than you realize. Use a few minutes in the shower each morning, the first few minutes of your meditation, or even the first few minutes of each staff meeting to identify specific people and situations to be thankful for. Try to say thanks to at least one person each day, meaning fully and mindfully. Even better, write someone a thank you note by hand. Make it a self-sustaining habit, a routine.

I have much to be thankful for: my parents teaching me the joy of learning, which eventually led me to discover Lean and Zen; my wife teaching me how to be more compassionate, which has completely changed my perspective on life; and business partners and associates that have put up with some of my wild ideas.

Reflecting on gratitude at the beginning and end of each day creates calm bookends to what can be chaos for me. As problem solvers, we are naturally predisposed to focus on the negative, taking for granted the positive to the extent that we often become oblivious and unaware of just how much positive there is in our lives. Intentionally focusing on gratitude brings that perspective back to reality. Expressing gratitude in daily life, complimenting and helping others, or just smiling, reinforces the power of being thankful. Intentionally finding gratitude every day, has changed my perspective on life more than any other personal or professional leadership habit. I’ve discovered I have a lot to be thankful for, which helps me be more generous, sympathetic, and empathetic.

Unless you try to do something beyond what you have already mastered, you will never grow.
– Ralph Waldo Emerson

Acquiring new knowledge and perspectives helps you grow within your general area of comfort or interest. To really grow, you need to stretch yourself outside of that comfort zone by learning or experiencing something completely different. In addition to acquiring the new skill, knowledge, or experience, you also create confidence in your ability to break boundaries. This can help you awaken to your true meaning.

A couple years ago, I came across an article by Heather Kelly on CNN.com (“Mark Zuckerberg’s Bizarre New Self-Improvement Goal”) about how Facebook’s Mark Zuckerberg sets an annual “challenge” goal:

Every year, the Facebook CEO sets some sort of challenge for himself. In 2009, he vowed to wear a tie to work every day to show he was serious about Facebook’s growth (and possibly get a break from the signature T-shirt and hoodie he wears to every public event). In 2010, he tried to learn Mandarin.

The annual challenges sometimes make headlines, most famously in 2011 when Zuck vowed to eat animals only if he had killed them himself. That pronouncement led to a mixture of backlash and praise from animal-rights activists.

This year [2012], the famously introverted Zuckerberg is seeking out more conversations with actual humans.

Seeking out more human interaction as a goal seems a bit odd until you think about the world that the young founder of Facebook lives in: a rarified air of groupies, yes-men, analysts, and press types. Interacting with “actual humans” is probably a challenge. Why is that bizarre? I applaud him for it. In 2013, Zuckerberg’s goal was to meet someone new every day; in 2014, he challenged himself to write one thank you note each day; and in 2015, he read a new book every other week.

A key outcome to these challenges is that he learns something new and (often) unexpected. Trying to learn Mandarin taught him that he didn’t listen well, and a year of killing animals made him consider becoming vegetarian. Zuckerberg’s 2012 goal, to converse with humans, helped him understand the personal side of immigration issues.

The reason Zuckerberg’s “bizarre” goals resonated with me is because I have had similar goals for well over twenty years. At first they weren’t true goals—they were just something fun to do. But for the last decade or more, the goals have been formal, with a process for identifying, executing and reviewing progress.

Over the past couple decades, I learned to scuba dive, windsurf, and code HTML by hand. I wrote a book, rebuilt a yellow 1973 Triumph Spitfire, became a vegetarian (rather, a “pescaterian”), skied in five different European countries over six days, started a blog, and ran a full marathon. Toward the end of each year, I identify something to try that is different, unique, or challenging, and develop a plan to dive into it. During the next year, I execute, reflect, and adjust based on my observations. Sound familiar? Plan, do, study, act.

In 2012, my goal was to leave a great job as president of a medical device company and take more control of my life. I notified the board in January, executed a transition plan for myself and the company, and, like a skydiver jumping out of a perfectly good airplane, left full-time secure employment on December 31st. I’m loving it, and the move also created positive secondary effects for the company: a great new Lean leader was developed to replace me and the company got a fresh infusion of Lean energy.

One of my other recent goals—related to this book—was to learn about and understand Buddhism, something I’d bumped into during my trips to Asia and also while living in California. I read books about it, talked to a lot of people, and in a sense, went to the gemba by spending a few weeks in Bhutan and Nepal. I learned about Zen’s history, how it evolved and split into the Theravada and Mahayana traditions, how Mahayana then evolved into Pure Land, Tibetan, and the Zen tradition that’s increasingly popular in the West. What I learned changed how I understood myself.

My goal this year is to read an important work of literature from each of the major ethnic groups or cultures: Latin American, Chinese, Indian, African, and so forth. My annual exploration takes me down some interesting and often unexpected paths, teaching me new thoughts, knowledge, or activities.

The point is that many people say they “think outside the box” but most do not actually explore outside the box. Relatively few people live with an open mind, and even fewer create goals to stretch themselves. Most people find it very difficult to put processes and hansei in place (Zuckerberg apparently does) because it is easier to talk than to act.

I can’t claim credit for knowingly thinking outside the box, especially initially. I sort of fell into doing it. But trying new things has broadened my perspectives by challenging my old perceptions and beliefs. It has deepened my understanding of the world we live in and taken me to interesting places—both physical and spiritual—that I previously wasn’t even aware of.

How will you explore out of the box next year? Perhaps more importantly, how will you ensure you actually do it, and why?